Colonel Sten and The Emerald Idol of Anarkan
by Aaron D
Summary: Sten's told this story so many times even HE's forgotten exactly how it really went, but this is his best guess...


  


Colonel Sten and the Emerald Idol of Anar-kan

  
  


by Aaron D. Roberts

The city of Urkan Tapa was one of the oldest on the continent, if not one of the oldest in the world. Unfortunately for the Urkans, however, their entire race had not had an original idea in building construction for over two milennia. This meant that no matter where one was within the city, one's surroundings were basically identical to anywhere else, minus a few distinguishing characteristics such as street signs or house plants. This, of course, was how the Urkans could pinpoint their locations no matter where they happened to be. Colonel Sten, Highland Mercenary Corps, Green Company, twice decorated with the Sapphire Cross (for valor in battle), four-time recipient of the Agate Anemone (awarded for surviving a major wound), however, did not happen to be an Urkan, and was therefore completely lost in the twisting mazes of packed-mud buildings and obscure stairways. 

Luckily for the Highlander, he had two native guides who were escorting both him and his officers to their destination. Urkan Tapa was fairly close to the Highlands themselves, although little trade was established between the two cultures. Scuttlebutt had it that the Urkans wanted to hire the Company for a defensive action of some sort, a wholly unprecedented situation. 

"We almost there, Colonel?" Trubo asked from his right. The young officer, almost ten years Sten's junior, was twitching impatiently, looking back and forth at the identical Urkan dwellings. 

"How the hell should I know, Captain?" Sten shot back. "We've been walking for three hours, I didn't even know the city was this freakin' big." 

"We'll get there when we get there," said Greinka, Sten's other captain. He was stocky for a Highlander, which made him about normal size for most other Clans, and just a few years older than his commanding officer. "I just hope they don't want us to patrol the streets or nothin'." 

Sten harrumphed. "We're Highland soldiers, Captain. Police duty is beneath us." Turning around, the colonel winked. "Unless they want to pay quadruple, that is." 

One of the armed troopers serving as Sten's honor guard let out a stifled chuckle. Sten said nothing, however. While some of his contemporaries felt the need for iron discipline in the ranks, Sten usually allowed it to remain lax as long as his men followed orders. He'd found it to be a sound theory so far. 

Apparently, they'd reached their point of destination, because the Urkan guides stopped and flanked a door just to the left of their current position. "Here we are," Sten said uncertainly, unable to tell what exactly marked this adobe building as different from the hundreds of others he'd already passed. The Highlanders entered slowly, ducking into the sky-blue curtains which served as doors (apparently, the Urkans were a trusting bunch, at least with one another). 

"Welcome to the House of God," said a grandly-dressed man from a ledge almost eight feet above where Sten and his men had entered. Obviously, what they had entered was a temple. Cute, Sten thought. That made sure all the little people had to look up during what he assumed would be their worship services. 

"Thanks for receiving us in the House of God," Sten quipped, although it seemed to him that the Urkan priest sensed none of the hostility in his tone. "What can we do for you?" 

"I am Hondara Chalri, leader of the Urkan people," the priest said, descending the plain staircase next to the platform. Sten noted that the Urkans weren't too big on decoration inside as well as out, as only a few carved runes adorned the dried mud walls of the temple. "While God has clearly blessed the Urkan people to be both prosperous and great in numbers, we have also been given some of the greatest hardships to face as well, no doubt to test or worthiness of the Divine Gifts." 

"No doubt," Sten acerbicly agreed. 

The priest's face grew even graver, a feat Sten had not thought possible. "It is the Anari, however, who pose the greatest test to our inherent saintliness." The old man stopped speaking. "Please," he said. "Come upstairs and join me in my evening repast. We will talk of grave matters, matters most grave indeed." 

Greinka laughed silently and Trubo shook his head as Sten made a goofy face behind the priest's back. The three officers and their escort made their way up at least three storeys. Sten noted the close quarters in the Urkan dwelling; evidently they went for height rather than floor area in their buildings. 

The meal was boring and tasteless, something Sten had begun to expect from the Urkans. Plain rice and unseasoned beans adorned his plate. Actually, the Highlanders as a group were quite pleasantly surprised; they'd finally found food that tasted worse than travel rations. 

"Gentlemen," Hondara Chalri began, "our situation is quite dire." Sten grunted and waved, indicating that the priest should continue, while shoveling food down his own throat quickly so as to taste as little as possible. The Urkan leader continued, "The Anari, I am ashamed to admit, were originally an offshoot of our own race. Six hundred years ago, the first dissidents left Urkan Tapa, claiming to have received visions from a new God, one which claimed our own was false." 

"Oh, yeah?" Captain Greinka said, pushing the food on his own plate back and forth. 

"Indeed," said Chalri. "Their 'god', the foul demon Anar-kan, apparently lacks the high moral fiber of our own. The Anari began tempting many of our own men and women away from us, though, in truth, this confounded our ancestors at the time, as the Anari clearly did not practice the tenets of strict monogamy and temperence that God requires of the Urkan people." 

Sten muttered a small sympathetic tone through his full mouth, though it seemed to the Highlander that the early Anari merely wanted to get drunk and fool around rather than specifically defy the teachings of the Urkan God. He smacked his lips noisily. "I'm a little dry. Got anything to drink around here?" One of the Hondara's servants handed the mercenary a ceramic mug. Sten took a deep pull off it, then tried his best not to sputter. Nothing washed down a tasteless meal like tepid, murky wellwater. 

"As the centuries have passed, we have become two separate peoples in fact as well as intent. The Anari lands, once separated from Urkan Tapa by leagues, now encroach upon our most sacred city. This is why we have asked you here, to help us crush the heresy of Anar-kan once and for all!" 

Trubo, who had been eating his meal calmly and deliberately, asked, "So, you want us to kill the demon? I don't know if we're up for that..." 

"Maybe," Sten said. "Sure, a demon would be able to handle four or five warriors, maybe even twenty or thirty, but the whole Green Company? No way. Of course, the price would have to be substantially high." 

The Hondara looked confused. "You don't understand---" 

"A demon would be tough to kill," Greinka put in. "We might have to transport some of the...special equipment here, maybe even request another division of combat mages." 

"Our regular soldiers are routinely trained in battle spells and weaves," Trubo protested. 

"Only the lower-level ones," Sten said. "If we're going up against a demon, we're going to need some heavy hitters in the magic department." 

"Gentlemen---" 

"Some demons have certain weaknesses," Trubo added. "We would need any information you may have on Anar-kan's nature." 

Greinka cleared his throat. "That's a good idea. Even if we can't find an individual weak point, we could study up on several different kinds of demons and probably get some good info on how to deal with our target." 

Chalri cleared his throat. "Excuse me, but---" 

"I've got it!" Sten shouted. "Holy water, right?! Greinka, you and I'll head back to the Highfort while Trubo gets the Company ready. We'll get the Dragon God to bless a couple of barrels, then book it on back here, meet up with the troops, set off on a two-week excursion, and be back in time for more rice and beans, lovely as they are. That's unless you think you're able to bless some water yourself, Hondara Chalri. I don't know what the restrictions are on things of that nature." 

"I'd feel more comfortable if we got Ladon's blessing," Trubo interjected. "No offense, Hondara." 

"You realize we'd have to be on the payroll for our trip to get the water, of course," Greinka reminded the priest. 

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!!!" Hondara Chalri shouted, apparently having lost all patience with the mercenary officers. "I do NOT want to hire you to slay Anar-kan." 

The three officers looked accusingly at the priest. "Well, then, why did you bring it up?" Sten asked. The Hondara's eye began twitching uncontrollably. 

*** 

"I don't know, boss," Trubo said as they walked back to the Green Company's encampment just outside the city. "I don't like getting involved in religious wars, not one bit." 

"Me, either," said Sten. "but we're not really fighting a 'religious war' here. All they want us to do is tear down some condos these Anari guys are building, and that's not such a big deal." In fact, it really didn't seem like the kind of job for the Highlander Merecenary Corps at all, but Hondara Chalri had insisted a military presence would be needed for the operation. 

"I think we can all agree that the main point here is the money," Greinka insisted. "And on that score, I can most assuredly assert that I am in favor of doing this job." 

"Three million zenny a week," Trubo murmured, adding a punctuating whistle. "I don't know why they think they'll need five centuries of troops to do a simple demolition job. We could probably get away with just three or four squads." 

"Actually, the job'll take a full legion," Sten corrected. "He said he wanted the whole Green Company, and I'm not gonna short the customer on soldiers---even if there's no way we'll need the whole lot of 'em." 

Greinka snorted. "Maybe all the Anari civilians are armed to the teeth _and_ trained in the eighth level of invocation magic. Then we'd need a thousand troops." 

"Yeah," Trubo agreed facetiously. "At least there'll be plenty of leftover guys for latrine duty and KP while we're on campaign." 

"That's what I like about you," Sten said, ruffling his captain's hair, "you're always thinkin' ahead." 

Greinka snorted again. 

*** 

The truth was, the hot, dry deserts of Urkan Tapa were actually a bit more comfortable than the hot, humid jungle of Anari Territory, but not by much. As one might expect, several of the hardy soldiers of the Green Company were voicing aloud their opinions of the heat and murkiness. They were then unceremoniously told by their officers and noncoms to shut up. 

It took the better part of a week for the company to reach the Anari condominiums. As Sten had expected, only a token security force guarded the compound. He, Trubo, and a small strike team took out the armed soldiers with a minimum of bloodshed while Captain Greinka led the bulk of the force into the settlement, occupying the condos and confining the civilians into a hastily constructed prison facility. 

"I think they're hiding something," Trubo said intently as the three commanding officers of the Green Company exiting the prison camp. 

"Of course they are," Sten agreed, "but we're not gonna resort to any physical means of persuasion." 

"He means torturing them, of course," Greinka said. 

"Right," said Sten. "If there's some secret to this construction site, we have plenty of time to investigate and find out what it is." 

Trubo shook his head. "That's assuming we didn't miss any soldiers who might have reported back somewhere else, or any messenger birds that might have flown." 

"That seems unlikely. Even if some word did leak out, the nearest Anari city is over two weeks away, at least according to the maps the Urkans gave us. That means we have four weeks total before even the possibility of an enemy presence. If you ask me, four weeks give us plenty of time to search the buildings and plant our explosives. We'll detonate them just prior to our departure." 

"Right," said Greinka. "and, let's be honest, even if a sizable Anari force shows up, I don't think we have much to worry about. Our boys are the most highly-trained soldiers on the face of the planet." 

"You're right," Trubo said. "those guys we took out here earlier had no clue what was going on. They spent more time flexing their muscles and making poses with their swords than they did taking care of business." The captain paused in thought. "Really, that's lucky for them---it probably saved their lives. Because they didn't really know how to put up a fight, we were able to take them without using lethal force. I wonder if that's true of the rest of the Anari warriors?" 

"We can only pray to Ladon it's so," intoned Sten. "It's a little late. Let's wait till tomorrow before we start the investigation." A grin spread across the colonel's face. "That being said, anyone want to adjourn to the officers' club for a bit of a nip before we turn in?" 

Trubo chuckled knowingly. "It's at least two hours before sunset. I'd say it'll have more than a 'nip.' I think it'd be more of a 'bender' if we start drinking now." 

"That's why we brought the extensive supplies, you know," Greinka told him. 

"Damn straight," Sten added. 

"All right," Trubo said in an exaggerated tone of capitulation. "I suppose if you're going to force me, I'll drink myself senseless." 

"I'm so proud of you," Sten said with pride. 

There wasn't much going on the next morning, but while Greinka and Trubo were each recovering from their respective hangovers, Colonel Sten was up with the dawn, giving crisp orders to his men. Sten was apparently possessed of a remarkable constitution, either that or an incredible affliction of alcoholism. Naturally, Sten preferred to let the decision of which was true to the mind of the beholder. THe Highlander strode confidently among his mercenaries, watching them go about their routines which were, if not the usual routines, at least were nothing out of the ordinary for soldiers-for-hire. 

Sten addressed the team of soldiers and mages he and his other officers had assembled the day before. "Alright, men," he said, "let's get in there. I don't think there'll be any magical traps, but it won't hurt to check. I want you magicians to have your third eyes open at all times---you never know if there's going to be some odd trip wire or hidden glyph right in front of your face. You soldiers: listen to your wizardly friends. Like I said before, I don't think there'll be any traps, but it never hurts to be careful." 

After issuing the order to move out, Sten began his own trek through the half-finished construction site, deciding to forgo the companionship of a mage in favor of his own arcane skills, which were fairly well-advanced. The colonel chose a route toward the center of the Anari settlement, the design of which seemed somewhat similar to Urkan construction, albeit without the convoluted, topsy-turvy architecture the desert people favored. These structures were more boxlike, and while they lacked the creative flowing aspects of Urkan buildings, they were certainly easier to navigate through. Sten chose one of the centrally-located dwellings to enter. 

The room was fairly spartan, although since it had not yet been furnished, or even completely built yet, Sten was not surprised. He surveyed the room, noting that a small staircase led to a previously unseen lower floor. After finding no traps other magical wards, he proceeded down the stairway. The darkness was palpable as Sten walked silently into the basement. A strange sensation tingled through the back of Sten's mind. He swiveled his head from side to side, trying to detect any possible magical traps, but found none with his second sight. Sten drew his saber in case an Anari soldier that had escaped the earlier sweeps lay in wait for him. 

Except for the faint light filtering down from the floor above, nothing was visible. Sten walked forward carefully, testing each step before placing his full weight. When the Highlander reached the end of the room, he placed his hand on the wall, feeling nothing unusual. Abruptly, Sten felt a jolt in his mind, and at the same moment, felt the floor underneath his feet begin to crumble, sending the mercenary tumbling into an even more penetrating darkness. 

Sten wasn't sure if he had lost consciousness, or for how long. He unsteadily rose to his feet on the uneven rocky floor, feeling a sharp pain in the back of his head. Relying on his other senses, The Highlander heard water running in the background, a mere trickle, which could have been a leak or perhaps a small stream. He felt around on the ground, finding his dropped sword, and picked it up. Shrugging, he called, "Hello? Anyone down here?" No answer. He tried to find a ladder, stairway, or, barring those, handholds on the bare face of the wall. No luck. "Well," he said, "this sucks." 

"It sure does," an indeterminate voice responded. 

Leaping around, planting his back against the wall, he held his saber at the ready. "Who's there?!" he demanded. 

"Just me," the bland voice replied. 

"What?" Sten demanded again. "Trubo? Is that you?" 

"No," the other said. "I'm over here." Green light welled up from a spot just yards in front of Sten, slowly consolidating and intesifying into a steady glow. The source of the light appeared to be a small, grotesque green statue sitting atop a stone platform. Its round, bulbous eyes stared dolefully ahead while its monstrous teeth were bared in a ugly rictus of contempt. Fortunately, since it was so small, the effect was more comical than intimidating. The idol's voice seemed even more bland as it spoke. "You know, no one's been down here for almost three centuries." 

Sten edged closer to the platform, coming into the light. 

The other voice sounded tired. "Anyway, congratulations, wanderer, you are in the presence of your God---" The voice stopped. "Whoa! You're not an Anari! It's been over a thousand years since I've seen someone from another Clan! This bodes well." 

"Greinka!" Sten called. "Trubo! If this is a joke, I'm not laughing!" He squinted, trying to find some nook or cranny they might be hiding in. "Where the hell are you, anyway? By Ladon, if I find you, I'll---" 

"Ladon?" The statue asked. "How is the old son of a---hey, you're not a Dragon. How do you know of their God?" 

"What are you talking about?" Sten shouted, still looking at everywhere but the statue, sure that one of his subordinates was playing a trick on him. "I'm a Highlander. Ladon is our God." 

"Um, what's a Highlander?" 

"All right," Sten grunted. "This is just going too far. What's a _Highlander_? I'm getting sick of this, okay? You know who you're talking to, right?" 

"No," replied the statue, "but I really don't think _you_ know who you're talking to, either." 

"That's right," Sten said angrily, "because you're hiding in the walls or behind that podium like a coward." 

"You're a mortal, so I know you have these certain limitations, but your ignorance is passing beyond even _those_ limits." The voice deepend a couple octaves. "I am the God, Anar-kan, father of the Anari people." Quickly, it raised back to its normal timbre. "Pretty cool, huh?" 

"Okay," the skeptical Sten began, voice dripping with sarcasm, "not that I don't **believe** you or anything, but is there any way you could, I don't know, prove your godhood?" 

"Well, truth be told, I'm not technically a god---more of a demigod, really." 

The light softened, and Sten could see that the statue was made of a clear, green crystal, possibly emerald. "A demigod, huh? What the hell's that?" 

The idol considered for a moment. "Well, like a god, I can't die or be killed, but I don't have unlimited power. Let me see, how can I prove...got it!" 

"What?" 

"Will you tell me the story of your travels?" The idol spoke the ancient phrase, so often uttered by the statue of Ladon. 

"Uh, okay." What the hell? Sten hadn't really had a confessional since he'd left the Highfort. He unburdened himself, explaining everything that had happened to him since the campaign had begun. When he was finished, he found that he actually felt a bit better. 

The idol coughed. "Hold on a minute....all right, I've got it recorded." 

"Hey," Sten asked, "I've always wondered. What exactly do you Gods mean when you say that you have it 'recorded?'" 

"Um, lemme think about that a sec." The statue's light dimmed temporarily. "In terms you can understand, as you tell us your stories, they become a kind of 'record' in our minds, and in that sense, humans can gain a kind of immortality." 

Sten grunted from his seat on the floor. "I'd never thought of it that way." 

"Yeah, your brains don't usually work in more than one direction at a time. That's not an insult, by the way---it's just a statement of fact." The idol cleared its nonexistant throat. "Okay, here's the deal. I need a favor, and I think you can help me." 

"I'm thrilled." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know all you guys here on Earth just _love_ to do things selflessly for others. I tell you what; you do me this favor, and I'll give you three wishes." 

Sten's eyes widened a bit. "Three wishes? You mean for anything?" 

"Well, as long as it's in my power. Whaddaya say?" 

"All right," Sten said. "What do I have to do?" 

*** 

It turned out that Anar-kan had been confined to the emerald statue over eight hundred years previous to his meeting with Sten. He'd been in a fight with a nasty female immortal called...well, he couldn't quite remember her name, but it sounded something like "Tyr," or so he thought. Truth be told, he'd actually played a nasty trick on Tyr involving a hyperactive ferret and six tons of "Raisin Bran" to provoke the confinement. Anyway, all things being equal, the demigod decided being locked into the statue was basically lame, and although he was not completely powerless, he still wanted to get free of the statue as soon as possible. Of course, no one lived in the hot, humid jungle where Anar-kan's idol had been cast. 

It had been around just over six centuries ago when Anar-kan lured an delirious Urkan priest to where he was imprisoned. The priest, who had been wandering in the desert for a week as part of his Urkan religious training, was easily impressed by the demigod's wiles, but unfortunately, did not receive the proper message, and then went back to his people, preaching news of a new God to rule over them. After the priest had barely escaped the wrath of his people, and, with a small number of new converts, returned to the jungle to find his divine ruler. 

"Turns out the guy was just a moron," the idol told Sten, "he couldn't figure out what I was trying to tell him even when he wasn't delirious with fever and thirst." So, the priest and the other Urkans congregated around the emerald idol, worshipping him as their new God. These, of course, were the first Anari. 

"So why aren't they here now?" asked Sten. "From what the Urkans told us, these condos were the first construction here in centuries." 

"Yeah," said the statue. "I figured I'd better get the fanatics away from here before they built some big temple and never let anyone near the idol again, so I told 'em to buzz off and found their holy city somewhere else, then build another idol, which I promised to visit them in. They decided to put up these condos here about five years back, after finding some obscure religious manuscript." 

"Do you actually work as their God, then?" 

"That's right. I don't do anything too big, a few small miracles, pictures of my face on the occasional fountain, that sort of thing, but nothing earth-shaking. I didn't really lay down any commandments, so the Anari's morals are a little loose." 

"So I've heard," Sten said with a smirk. 

"That being that, this brings us to the point of my explanation: I need you to free me from the idol." 

Sten scratched his head. "Okay. What do I need to do, just get a big hammer and smash it, melt it, or what?" 

"Naw, that stuff won't work. Whatcha need to do is...aw, crap. I forgot. I can't actually tell you. That's part of the curse that goofy broad put on me. All right, I can't tell you outright, but I can give you a hint." 

Sten got to his feet, stretching. "Oh, boy, well, let's get it over with." 

"All right. First, I want you to place your hands on the sides of my idol." Sten complied. "All right," the statue said, "here we go." Abruptly, Sten was no longer in the dank cave, but in a bright, sunlit courtyard, surrounded by columns and green hanging gardens. "Welcome to my temple, in the grand city of Tof-Anari," said a larger, more decorated, idol. This statue appeared to be made of copper, with several jewels encrusted in its surface. "I want you to find the high shaman at this temple and say '_la fiesta de los ratones_' to him. He'll tell you what you need to do next." 

Sten was a bit confused. "So, you can really transfer consciousness to each statue of yourself?" 

"Yeah," the idol said proudly, "as long as it's green. Jade, copper, emerald---even green glass. Ladon can do that too, you know, if he wants too. He doesn't even have the green limitation." 

"Right." Sten nodded. "Hey, wait a minute. What about my men? They're all still back at the construction site. They'll notice I'm missing pretty soon." 

"Don't worry," Anar-kan's likeness reassured him. "If you take too long, I'll lure another one of them downstairs and let him know what's up." 

Sten shrugged and left the idol, dodging among the Anari priests and shamans in the temple hallways. After asking several of the passersby for direction, he finally located the high shaman's chambers---some three floors and five hundred yards away from his starting point. "Excuse me?" he said as he knocked softly on the door. 

"Yes?" an old voice answered. "Come in, please." 

"Hello," Sten said softly, pushing past the wooden door. "Um, are you the high shaman?" 

"Yes, my son," answered the old man. 

"Well, then I'm supposed to tell you about '_la fiesta de los ratones_,' Sten said. 

Suddenly the man began leaping to and fro, shouting things in an idiom Sten was unfamiliar with. "_Mucho gusto_!" he yelled. "_Yo tengo mas fuerte que Jorge Washington! Y Dracula tambien!_" Dancing about, the high shaman pulled a small jeweled box, seemingly by accident, and after juggling it for a short time, tossed it into the Highlander's fumbling hands. 

Barely saving the trinket, Sten thanked the elderly man with a short, "_Muchas gracias,_" wondering how he knew that was the right thing to say. The mercenary swiftly traversed the stairs back downward to where the large statue of Anar-kan resided. "All right," said Sten, "what the hell is this box for? Do I just open it and you're free?" 

"Unfortunately, no," said the statue. "but I think you'll find something...interesting inside." 

"All right." Sten opened the box, which contained only a small, mostly faded scrap of parchment. "What is this, a joke?" 

"Just read it," the idol said, exasperated. 

Shaking his head, Sten unfolded the parchment and stared intently at the writing, which was surprisingly shaped into a modern lettering rather than the ancient script he had expected. "_Dear Sten,_," it read, "_I realize this may come as a shock, as we don't exactly know each other yet, but please take my word for it when I say you pretty much _have_ to help Anar-kan. Trust me, he's already helped me quite a lot. So, anyway, what you need to do to free him is, a: have at least a pound of parsley flakes and, b: learn the Mystical Moondance. There's some weird lady at a lake hereabouts what can teach you, at least from what I remember. Anyway, ask her what else you have to do. By the way, if you didn't know, let me tell you, it sucks being trapped five hundred years in the past, although I did meet someone who looks just like Ryu. Remind me to tell you about it sometime._ At the bottom, the note was signed, _your (future) friend, Bow_. 

Sten took one last disgusted look at the letter. "This doesn't make any sense." 

"It will," the idol assured him. "Give it fifteen years or so." 

*** 

Sten tried to fight off a feeling of restlessness as he entered the grotto. In truth, the lake was not an unpleasant place to be, but despite the idol's insistence of his errand's urgency, Sten's heart was back in the eastern Anari lands with his men. Still, Anar-kan had assured the Highlander that he'd inform the Green Company if they became worried about their colonel's whereabouts. That in mind, Sten strolled purposefully up to the lakeshore and called, "Hello? Anyone here? I've come to ask about the Mystical Moondance." 

Sten jumped back as the water began churning. The mercenary suppressed a jump back as a blue-tinted young girl emerged from the lake's surface. She was supported by what appeared to be a column of sheer water, which elevated her to just above Sten's eye level (she, in truth seemed much shorter than he). 

"Hello," Sten said hesitantly. 

"Like, wow," the girl said, "you're, like, a Highlander, right?" Sten nodded. "Like, do you want to learn the Moondance?" 

"That's what I just said," replied Sten. 

"What-_ever_," the girl said. "Like, since I'm the Mystical Moon Maiden, like, that'd be pretty much my specialty." 

"The 'Mystical Moon Maiden'?" Sten uttered in disbelief. "That may be the corniest name I've ever heard." 

"Watch it, bub," the Maiden said. "Trust me, you don't wanna get me steamed." 

Sten spent the next several hours painfully learning new dance steps, something the mercenary prayed he'd never have to do again. The Moon Maiden was less than forgiving if he made a mistake. "Five-six-seven-eight...NO! WRONG! Now let's try it AGAIN!" Still, Sten figured getting yelled at for the better part of an afternoon was worth three wishes. Diligently, the Highlander kept at the training until he persevered. 

"All right," the Maiden told him at the end of the night. "I think you've got it, at least as well as you'll need to. Like, try to do it right and not embarrass me, okay?" 

"Yeah, sure," Sten said, mumbling under his breath as he began the short trek back to the temple. Realizing he still had an item to procure, he turned from the temple gates and strode quickly into the nearby town of Tof-Anari. Realizing he had no idea where the spice merchants in the town might be located, he waylaid one of the people walking near him and inquired, "Do you perhaps know where a fellow might find a pound of parsley hereabouts?" 

Instead of an affirmative response, and quick directions to where a shop might be found, Sten's question provoked the opposite reaction. "Parsley?!" demanded the Anari townsman in an outraged voice. "That's forbidden!!" 

"Okay," Sten said slowly, trying to calm down the clearly crazy man. "Settle down. I didn't really want any parsley---" 

"Heretic!" the man screamed, flailing his arms and grabbing the attention of the other townspeople. "Heretic! He asked for some parsley!!!" 

Two minutes later Sten was running for the town exit with an angry mob on his heels. Engaging his long Highlander arms into his stride, he began a ground-eating four-beat gait that pushed him precious extra yards ahead of his pursuers. "Close the gate!" one of the bloodthirsty Anari yelled, and the guards working the town wall began to push the heavy wooden doors shut. Reaching into his inner reserves, Sten sent a magical explosive bouncing towards the closing gate. Just before it reached the doors, the bomb detonated, blinding the guards and shocking them motionless. Sten darted through the gates and bounded up into the trees, swinging farther and farther away from Tof-Anari by vine. 

Sten swung some distance away before he risked stopping. Cupping his ear from the treetop, he could hear the enraged Anari off in the distance. He knew it wouldn't be long before they caught up with him. What was he going to do? Looking around, a sudden idea popped into his brain. He gathered a few vines, twigs, and a number of leaves together, then constructed them into a crude form, then finally shaped the plant matter into a somewhat familiar visage. 

"Yo, demigod," he called, "you in there?" No answer. Sighing, Sten crafted a more appropriate speech. "I call upon the awareness of Anar-kan, mighty god of the Anari, in His holy name." 

This summons was apparently acceptable, as the plant idol sprang to life. "Whoa, dude," it said, "this is totally gnarly! You made an idol out of _leaves_?" 

Sten chuckled. "You did say it could be made out of anything green..." 

"Point taken," the crude idol conceded. "What's up?" 

"Yeah, well, someone forgot to mention that his followers find a desire for parsley to be an offense punishable by death..." 

"Burning at the stake, actually," the idol pointed out, "but I couldn't tell you that because of my curse. Since you already know, however, I guess I can now inform you that when I my oh-so-intelligent followers found out that parsley was one of the keys to my freedom, they misinterpreted that particular piece of knowledge as 'if they eat parsley than I shall leave them.' Which, of course, isn't too far from the truth, but it made my getting free quite a chore, no?" 

"Certainly," Sten agreed heartily. "Now, just out of curiosity, mind you, would there happen to be an idol of yours in a city where they don't start the kitchen fires a-burnin' when you asks for a sprig of parsley." 

"Chicken fires." 

"What?" Sten asked, 

"No, no," Anar-kan protested. "You're supposed to say, 'kitchen fires.'" 

"What?" Sten reiterated. 

"Just say 'kitchen fires.' Say it." 

"Okay, 'kitchen fires.'" 

"Chicken fires." 

After a look from Anar-kan, Sten kept going. "Kitchen fires." 

"Chicken fires." 

"Kitchen fires." 

"Chicken fires." 

Suddenly, the leaf idol began speaking in a entirely different voice, this one deeper and more sonorous. "**When you're looking for kitchen-fresh chicken, nobody beats KCF.**" 

"What the hell was that all about?" 

The idol laughed silently. "I guess you won't get it unless you live another four centuries." 

"What happens then?" 

"Television," it said, as if that explained it all. 

"All right," Sten said grumpily, both bewildered and disgusted, "I really would like to buy parsley somewhere where it's a perfectly normal, natural thing. Now, do you have a statue in...I don't know, Wyndia, the Highfort, or Evrai, or somewhere? Any of those places would work." 

"Well, dude, Evrai is right out," said the idol. "That's a one-deity region, no doubt. Let's see: nothing in Wyndia, or the Highfort either." The idol closed its eyes as best it was able, concentrating. "Alright, I think I've got one. Get ready." 

*** 

As it turned out, the idol did, indeed, have another version of itself within a city outside of Anari territory. It just so happened that three hundred and sixty-seven years ago, an Anari seafarer, hoping to prove his theory that the world was round, set out westward on a sea voyage, hoping to cross the circumference of the world and end up on the other side of the continent. After eight grueling weeks, the captain and his crew beached their ship on the coast just south of Coursair, which was a scant twenty-three years old at the time. At the risk of mutiny, the captain ordered his men to settle in the new town, and most found gainful employment on the construction team which was building the new Coliseum. Therefore, it just so happened that one of the Anari seamen-turned-craftsmen, after deciding he'd found a serious lack of religious fulfillment in his life, spent his spare moments sculpting a likeness of his God out of spare mortar, then, remembering the teachings of Anar-kan, painted it green. Sure enough, his God's awareness inhabited the idol whenever the man called. Seeing as how the man's major wishes included becoming intimate with several of his neighbor's wives, the idol had a bit of work cut out for it, although it was exponentially less than a normal Anari ciry filled with worshippers. 

Sten materialized just outside the Coliseum itself, noting that the small idol of Anar-kan, no larger than his fist, was set decoratively into one of the gigantic columns, just far enough in that it would be protected from the weather. "I should be back within a half-hour," Sten promised, hopping down off of the pedestal and walking easily into the commercial district of Coursair. 

Luckily, Sten discovered that, after enquiring about a purchase of some parsley at the general store in Coursair, he was not immediately pursued by any angry mobs. Consequently, he bought said spice, and, took a pleasant stroll back to the Coliseum, where the idol then courteously transported him back to his starting point---that is, the basement of the Anari condominiums where his men were currently encamped. 

Sten stretched out his arms and legs, then grasped the burlap sack of parsley, and said, "Well, I think I'm ready to do this---ready as I'll ever be, anyway." With that, the mercenary colonel began throwing the parsley in the air, tapping out the Moondance's steps as the Moon Maiden had taught him, all the while singing the mystical words he'd learned: 

_It's a marvelous night for a moondance, the leaves on the trees are up high  
What a marvelous evening for romance---_

As Sten was singing and dancing, the emerald idol of Anar-kan began vibrating swiftly, then shaking, then rumbling even more violently. Suddenly, a brilliant light emanated from the idol, then Sten heard a loud shattering sound. He covered his eyes to protect them, then, after the light had disspated, peered at the destruction. The idol was gone. Anar-kan was free. 

To Sten's utter astonishment, the demigod Anar-kan looked almost identical to his emerald representation. In fact, only the color was different, that and the fact that the demigod was now capable of movement. "Thanks," said Anar-kan, stretching his arms. "Oh, man, it's been almost a millenium since I've done that." The tiny godling began dancing and jumping for joy, whooping out loud. "Woo hoo! I can't wait to go visit my good friend, the Sorceress (and one super-hot babelicious piece of snaketail, if I say so myself) Bl---" 

"Hold on just a minute!" Sten interjected. "Isn't there a little matter of three wishes that a certain demigod owes me, here?" 

"Oh, yes, you're right," said the demigod. "Whaddaya want, then?" 

"That's easy," said Sten, "I wish for immortality." 

"No can do," lamented the idol. "I'm afraid granting immortality to a mortal is a little bit beyond my power." 

"That's bogus!" Sten protested. 

Anar-kan scratched his ugly, disproportionate head. "Here's what I can do for you. First off, how old are you?" 

Sten crossed his arms uncomfortably. "Let's say fortyish." 

"Okay," the demigod said, snapping his fingers. Sten felt a slight shuddering come over him, then noticed that he felt far stronger and more vital than he had in quite some time. "Here's what I've done," the demigod told him. "I've halved your current physical age to 'twentyish,' if I have the idiom right, and I've also slowed your aging process to...let's say, a quarter of what it was, if not slower. Hey, you may just live to see television come around after all!" 

Sten considered it for a moment. "That's sounds freakin' wonderful, pardon the sarcasm. Let's see, what else do I want? Got it. Next I wish for a billion zenny." 

Anar-kan groaned. "Okay, I can do that, but let's think that over. Either I make a billion zenny and give it to you, thereby weakening the world's currency, or I can take an existing billion zenny from other people around the world, which would also seriously harm the world's economy, and would also be stealing. Either way, it's a pretty bad idea and I'd rather not do it. Plus, have you really considered how you would carry that much raw cash about?" 

"No," Sten admitted, "but I do have a thousand men with me..." 

"Tell you what," offered Anar-kan, "How about you just take the shattered emerald pieces of my idol? That should fetch quite a price, and I won't even count it as a wish." Anar-kan outstretched his hand, and the emerald pieces gathered together and placed themselves into a bag. 

"Groovy," Sten said, taking the bag from the demigod. 

"So, what else do you want?" 

Sten scratched his head. "I've gotta tell you, I can't think of anything else at the moment." 

"Okay," said Anar-kan. "I've got other things to do just now, anyway. Tell you what, if you ever think of another wish or two that you want, just say the incantation you used to bring my awareness to that crappy idol you built. Since I'm free now, you don't even need an idol anymore." 

"All right," said Sten. 

"See you later," said the demigod, giving Sten a mockery of the Highland Mercenary Corps salute and then winking out of sight in a brief orange flash. 

Sten shrugged and, since his body was in far better condition than it had been when he'd fallen down into the enclosure, he climbed the bumpy face of the wall, emerging into the basement of the Anari condos. The colonel walked up the stairway and out of the building, noticing the early morning sun. So, he'd been gone only a day, perhaps slightly less. He made the short walk back to camp, and was greeted with great surprise. 

"Colonel!" Greinka said accusingly. "Where have you been? What's going on?" 

"Nothing to worry about, Captain," said Sten. "I assume we've taken any valuables from the condos here?" 

"Yes," said Trubo, casting a nasty stare Sten's way, "but we haven't had a chance to completely scour the buildings yet. There may be something else inside the walls, or in some chamber we haven't found yet." Funny. Sten noticed that Trubo now seemed a bit older than him, no doubt due to Anar-kan's magic spell. Greinka, of course, had always been older than Sten, and was even more so now. 

"Set the explosives tonight, and we'll move out tomorrow morning," Sten ordered. "I'm pretty sure there's nothing else of worth here. Meanwhile, we can take today off, and you know what that means..." 

Greinka held up a flask. Sten grabbed it and took a huge pull of Highland whiskey. "You read my mind," he said. 

*** 

Sten looked at his friends, gathered around the table at Nero's bar in the TownShip. "That's pretty much what happened, as best as I remember it. We blew up the condos, went back to Urkan Tapa, and got paid our three million zenny, which for as much work as we went through, was well worth it." 

Rand looked disinterested, taking a big swig of his dragonwater. Bleu appeared amused, but shook her head in disbelief as did Nero himself. Nina, still fresh of her recent rescue, stared at the Highlander in rapture. "That was amazing," she said. 

"So," Rand said, belching, "you still have two wishes left?" 

"Yeah, technically." 

"And you really got a letter from Bow from five hundred years ago?" Blue inquired. 

"As far as I remember. It makes a lot more sense now than it did at the time." 

"Son," said Nero, "I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts that story ain't any more true than the sixteen other versions I've heard over the last three years." 

"What the hell's a dollar?" asked Rand. 

"Shut up," said Nero. 

"No," Sten said, "really, I think that's what actually happened. All I have to say is, do I look fifty-eight?" 

"No," said Bleu, "but wait till you reach ten thousand. That's the real test." 

**FIN**

  
  



End file.
